


This time we'll get it right

by strawberriesandtophats



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, cuteness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-20 15:53:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3656142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/pseuds/strawberriesandtophats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harold and John have known each other for a very long time.  A series of drabbles on how they have met throughout the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cosy fandom time!

1.  
John Herberts, who was only eleven years old and already lanky stood in front of the soda machine, willing it to work. The tiny gas station was in the middle of nowhere and his father would finish paying for the gas in a few minutes. This was the third time they had moved this year, and John knew that he had to hurry up. Another man struck up a conversation with his father, his accent unfamiliar to John.  
“Hello,“ said another kid, wearing big glasses and a blue shirt, “do you need help?“  
“Sure,“ replied John, “it’s stuck, and my Dad and me are going soon. I‘ve tried thumping it-„  
The kid nodded and hit the soda machine a couple of times in a few different places. It made a strange, metallic sound. The kid stepped back, staring at it and then took a screwdriver from his pocket.  
John looked around the corner to see his father reaching into his pocket for the car keys.  
“No one is coming,“ he told the other boy, who had appeared to have taken apart a large part of the soda machine when John had not been looking. Screws littered the ground. But the kid was shorter than John and neither of them could get up to pick the lock of the old fashioned machine.  
Wordlessly, John lifted the other kid up so that he could sit on his shoulders to do whatever he was going to do. The kid smelled like soap and ink.  
“I‘m John,“ the taller boy said as the glass flask began moving. John went slowly to his knees while the other boy held tightly to his shoulders and finally stepped down.  
“Harold,“ said the other boy, looking shy, but already putting the screws in their place at record speed. Dust swirled in the air, looking golden in the sunshine. John took his soda from the machine and smiled at Harold, who was dusting off his pants.  
“Thanks for the help,“ John said, wondering if he should shake Harold‘s hand, but decided against it. ”Do you want some of this? “he offered instead.  
After slight hesitation Harold took the flask in his hand and took a small sip. A call was heard, and Harold‘s head shot up, his legs already moving. The soda was almost shoved in John‘s hands with an apologetic smile.  
John waved goodbye, as the kid jogged away, glancing back at him and waving once before disappearing around the corner.

2.  
Harold Wren was sitting under a tree in the park after a truly exhausting day of studies, reading Hamlet so that he could turn in a second essay for extra credit when he saw a handsome young man with blue eyes running past him. Harold blinked, startled, as the young man grinned at him and then continued on his way.  
3.  
The dapper looking man in the wheelchair had left a to-go cup of Turkish coffee and a vanilla cupcake with almond frosting on the bench, John Reese noted. The air was crisp and the sun was already fading.  
The man had sat outside, enjoying the fine spring day, and typed away at his laptop and not so much as glanced at Reese. Sitting at the next table, Reese had tried reading the newspaper and waited for Kara to call him to tell him about the next assignment. The beer beside the paper was untouched.  
The café was tiny and nondescript, and the man in the wheelchair was eating his ice cream cone and waiting for the tea in the porcelain cup on the table to reach a better temperature.   
He had liked the brief, warm look on the other man‘s face when Reese had held the door open for him when they had both gone outside to sit after ordering their drinks. The trees were brightly colored and the birds were singing.  
John took a bite of the cupcake and sipped at the Turkish coffee, enjoying the warmth of the moment.  
4\.   
Bear wagged his tail enthusiastically as the Tall Man and the Bespectacled Man continued their walk in the park, their shoulders‘brushing frequently, and talking.  
„So, Sameen painted your nails and confiscated all your hair gel?“ asked the Bespectacled Man, looking faintly amused,“ it appears that staying at your apartment while she recovers might be beneficial.“  
„At least it makes her look pleased,“ the Tall man said, and opened the umbrella as the first drops of rain fell on the pavement in front of them. The air smelled like there was a storm on the way, and Bear knew that they would be inside the Tall Man‘s apartment within half an hour if the Bespectacled Man continued smelling like he was happy.  
They continued walking. After a while the Bespectacled Man took the Tall Man‘s arm and threw a treat in Bear‘s direction when Bear adjusted his walking speed to accommodate his companions.  
It was a good day.


	2. Chapter 2

5\.   
John Herberts, thirteen years old jumped off his bike and locked it before running up the stairs to reach the local library before it closed. When he reached the head desk and saw that the math textbook he needed to borrow as he had a test in two days was on the table with a bright post it note with his name on it, he smiled helplessly at the librarian.  
His own math textbook had been left behind on accident when he had moved from a small, yellow house where they had got the news that his father had died. They had moved as soon as they could.   
“This book originally belonged to another library,“ said the librarian, “somewhere far away, I gather, somewhere in the country too, as it came in a box. You have to return it in thirty days, Mr. Herberts.“  
John handed her his library card, his hands sweaty from the long ride. While she inspected his card he tried to flatten his dark hair, which stuck up from the wind.  
„Have a good day,“ John said as he took the book in his hands, already stamped and hurried out of the building. He did not hear her reply, but nodded nonetheless.  
The ride home was uneventful, but John pedaled as fast as he could, eager to finish studying for the first test of the semester so that he could do something else later on. Before this he had to rely on a very old, frayed and yellowing copy of the textbook that belonged to the school, but he was not allowed to bring that home and he did not have enough pocket money yet to buy it from the local bookstore and it was too expensive to ask his mother to buy it for him.  
The young man rubbed his blue eyes, the light of the day already fading as he put the bike inside the small bike shed and took the elevator up the five floors to reach the tiny apartment. Gravel crunched underneath his sneakers.  
When he put the textbook on the small desk inside his room a small piece of paper fluttered to the floor. John looked at it, throwing the sweaty t-shirt into the laundry basket and pulling on a clean one before going on one knee to reach the paper. A warm gust of wind came through the open window, and the paper fluttered slightly in John‘s grasp.  
For one fleeting moment, he hoped it was a cheat sheet.  
It was not. It was a very detailed drawing of several small birds in flight and underneath the drawing was an only a small H, that indicated who the artist was.  
John stared at the drawing for a long time, admiring the way the birds seemed to fly effortlessly, at the roughness of the claws and smoothness lines that made up the wings.  
After a while he smoothed out the paper and pinned it on the wall above his desk, where it would reside, John decided, even when it yellowed and guests would ask questions about it.   
He opened the math textbook fully on the first page and began to study, determined to get a good grade on the exam. 

 

6.  
Harold Finch was on his second cup of tea, sitting quietly in the hotel restaurant with his new cane propped up against his table for two when the current number was arrested by the local police right in front of him. The number turned around and grabbed the cup of tea from Harold‘s hands, a hostile look on his face when a tall man stepped wordlessly in front of Finch, a cup of strong coffee still in his hands. The wind howled outside and the leaves of the trees littered the concrete in front of the building.  
Blue eyes met Harold‘s eyes, and the handsome man in front of him gave him a friendly smile as the Number backed away from them. The number was looking warily at the cup in Reese‘s hands as if afraid that he might spill the burning liquid all over his hands if he stepped any closer to the man with the glasses.  
“Look,“ said the Number stubbornly, “don‘t you think this guy looks more suspicious than me?“ and tilted his head towards Harold, who lifted an eyebrow, his heart hammering.  
The man in the dark suit turned his head again to look at Harold, as if evaluating him or trying to spot any sign of danger. Harold tried to look as harmless and friendly as possible and saw the badge Reese was using as a cover identity today. The calculating look on the taller man‘s face faded into something softer when he saw the fruit salad and toast on Harold‘s plate.  
“He could have hit you over the head with his cane if he had wanted to,“ the man in front of Harold said evenly, “he is clearly just trying to enjoy his breakfast-„  
A loud crash was heard as a dark haired woman threw another man into a wall, and the man with the blue eyes nodded in farewell at Harold. The number, the dark haired woman and the handsome man and their target were gone within a minute.

7.  
A well-dressed man wearing glasses smiled at John as the taller man stepped into the tiny bookshop. Their shoulders brushed as John reached up and handed the other man a large volume from the highest shelf which John had seen him eyeing through the window. It was a frayed math text book, with a tiny doodle of a songbird on the cover.


	3. Chapter 3

8\.   
There was a kid sitting on the wooden fence surrounding one of the houses in the neighborhood, John thought as he continued limping slightly as he walked on the sidewalk with a brown paper bag of groceries in his arms. The other boy was reading a small book and his glasses gleamed in the evening light. John is only eight years old, but the kid does not seem threatening, and just keeps reading with a small smile on his face.  
When John drew nearer he saw that the kid was older than him, but as he was shorter than John was so that he could not tell exactly how old he was. There was a yellow leaf in the kid’s hair, clearly just fallen off the branch above him.  
Tomorrow would be the first day of school, John Herberts thought as he hoisted up the bag, which had begun sliding down. He knew that he was already late, and that his father would be waiting for him to bring home the groceries. But he could not walk faster, as the pain in his knee prevented him from bending it too much.  
“Hello,” John said, stopping a few steps away from the other boy, “what are you reading?”  
The boy looked up, his eyes blue behind the large glasses and smiled faintly, clearly engrossed in the book.  
“The title is so faded that I don’t know what it is called, but it is a story about a librarian and a lady who is a knight who team up. My dad and I are visiting my aunt, and she told me to go outside. I’m Harold.”  
“That sounds like a good book,” John replied, “I’m John.”  
“Do you want me to help you with your bags?”Harold asked. He closed the book and put it in the pocket of his rather frayed jeans.  
“Sure,” John said and handed the older boy the smaller bag, which was filled with fruit and a couple of juice boxes. “Do you want to split this blueberry muffin my mom allowed me to buy as a treat since I aced my last math exam?”  
Harold nodded and they began walking the short distance to John’s house.  
“What happened to your knee?” Harold asked quietly, a small frown on his face as John handed him the slightly larger portion of the muffin, before stuffing most of his own half into his mouth.  
John chewed, his eyes closed in bliss before answering.  
“I was playing basketball with a couple of kids in the neighborhood and I fell down on the gravel,” John answered with a small shrug. “This is my house, thanks for helping me.”  
Harold nodded and put the bag on the ground before saying something polite and turning around only when John had waved goodbye, grinning happily and started walking towards the house. Harold turned around on ate his part of the muffin on his way back, enjoying the taste of the fresh blueberries.

9.  
It was Thursday, and Mr Dillinger had just made a nasty comment about his current boss to one of their numbers, and earlier that morning had looked condescendingly at Harold’s soft middle as Harold had wheeled himself from the desk.   
Now Harold was making his way steadily towards Dillinger, who had looked around, at Harold and not even a lick of embarrassment or shame about his behavior had crossed his face. There was snow on Harold’s shoulders and hat, and Dillinger opened his mouth, undoubtedly to say something unapologetic and slightly rude. Another man, well dressed and graceful glanced at Dillinger’s sneer and then walked in between Harold and Dillinger so that Dillinger’s to go coffee cup spilled hot coffee all over Dillinger’s coat.   
As Dillinger tried to brush the coffee off with his fingers and scarf, the tall man smiled slightly at the tiny gleam of gratitude in Harold’s eyes.


End file.
